Read Online Devlin's Luck by Patricia Bray - Free Book Online Page A

deer leaping over a stream. A border done in the old trefoil style ran along the top and bottom of the piece, framing the design. He guessed this piece had been made thirty or forty years ago, most likely in Duncaer. In a country where steel was rare, the Caer smiths had developed the art of working with copper to a high degree. Devlin himself had made dozens of similar pieces, before he had given up the craft to join his brother in the New Settlements.
    “If I had my own tools, and a decent grade of mountain copper …” Devlin mused. “No, even then the chances are that I would destroy it entirely. You’d best tell the owner that it is beyond repair.” Reluctantly he placed the armband back on the workbench.
    The smith nodded in apparent agreement. “That is what I thought. It takes a good man to know when a job is beyond him, and an honest one to admit it. Here, my apprentice is gone for the day. You can use his bench and tools for whatever it is that you are so desperate to do.”
    His sudden agreement caught Devlin by surprise. “I thank you,” he said.
    Master Timo showed him the bench he was to use, then returned to his own work. Placing his pack on the floor, Devlin reached in, withdrew the axe head, and laid it on the bench. Then he set the staff beside it. The staff was black oak from the hills of Duncaer. It had withstood the long journey far better than Devlin himself. Now it would serve as the new helve.
    First he trimmed the staff to the correct length. Then he used a chisel and awl to set the holes for the rivets. Taking a bar of copper the length of his hand, he heated it in the fire, then hammered it into a cylinder on the anvil. He then split the cylinder in two, forming the rivets. While they were still hot, he measured them against the holes he had made, and was pleased to see that they were a perfect match.
    Now came the tricky part. If not done correctly, the helve would shatter and he would have to start again with a new piece of wood. Carefully he placed the butt of the helve in the vise, then tightened it until it held firm. Then he lifted the axe head with the tongs and brought it to the fire. He held the shank of the blade above the edge of the fire bed, knowing that too much heat would ruin the temper of the blade. Just as the socket began to glow, he removed it from the fire. Then he turned and aligned the axe head over the top end of the helve. It slipped down the width of two fingers. Using the tongs in his left hand to hold it steady, he began to tap the top of the axe head with the hammer in his right. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the axe head was forced onto the helve.
    When he could see the top of the helve through the socket, he relinquished his tongs. But he kept hammering, checking the alignment with every blow, until the holes in the axe head had perfectly aligned with those he had drilled into the helve.
    Unclamping the helve from the vise, he positioned the axe so that its head protruded over the anvil. He tossed the copper rivets into an iron cup, then set the cup in the fire bed. A few moments later the rivets were brightly glowing. Exchanging the large tongs for a smaller set, he pulled the iron cup from the fire bed, then grasped the first of the rivets. Aligning it over the hole, he tapped it into the socket with one blow. He then did the same with the second.
    The rivets were just slightly longer than the width of the socket. With a few quick blows on first one side, then the other, he capped off the rivets at each end, completing the weld. As he finished, the metal had already cooled to the point where it no longer glowed with heat. He turned the axe over in his hands. The rivets appeared perfect, although he would need to test the axe to be sure. And last time it had been not the axe, nor the rivets, but the helve itself that had failed him.
    Still it was done. He hefted the axe, trying to see it only as a weapon, once broken, now made whole again. But he could not, for